


Monster Week

by Hy_and_Ry



Category: Hat Films - Fandom, The Yogscast
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood, Fluff, Gender nonconforming character, Gore, M/M, Necromancy, Undead, Violence, Werewolf, Werewolves, Witches, mentions of rape/non-con, october17, prompt week monsters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-08 13:09:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12255030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hy_and_Ry/pseuds/Hy_and_Ry
Summary: Spooky October ficlets. Expect lots of blood and gore because I cannot help myself.-Ry





	1. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sips owns a lot of places. His favorite place to take people is the Haunted House where three notorious robbers were shot by police. The place makes for good ghost stories at the very least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I accidentally went like...demonic with this? I'm sorry. I just...I wanted to write this and it was inspired by the first prompt so I'm posting it first.
> 
> -Ry

Sips feels too old for nightclubs. He doesn’t look it but he feels it. 

His friends always want those kinds of partiers though so he makes his presence known at one of the many places he owns in the city. And of course people are always ecstatic to be invited to his VIP booth with him so that’s never a problem at least. 

The lights give him a headache though so he makes fast excuses and promises of booze and the best drugs money can buy and that's how he ends up with three girls in his limousine. 

“Head towards The House, Turps.” He tells the driver who nods and laughs a bit.

“You got it, boss.” 

The girls are varied tonight. A leggy and touchy blonde who can’t keep her hands off him. A rowdy redhead who’s only here for the booze and drugs, not that he cares much. A soft spoken wallflower brunette rounds out the three, and she mostly sits in the limo picking at the hem of her skirt. 

They’re just their types. 

He barely drags the blonde off him when they arrive, christ is she handsy, and the redhead is visibly itching for a fix. 

The house looks like a normal manor on the outside. Especially with how dark it is outside.

He unlocks the door though and it’s like they stepped into the past. The furniture is all antique. The brunette gasps softly as her eyes lay on the large fireplace in the house with a real bearskin rug in front of it. 

“This place is incredible, Sips.” She whispers and he just grins.

“I know.” He closes the door behind them all, “make yourselves at home.” He smiles and hands a bag to the redhead making her laugh excitedly. 

She wastes no time setting up lines on the antique coffee table while Sips starts a fire in the fireplace. The blonde and redhead do lines while the brunette checks out the shelves of books. A clock further in the house strikes eleven and Sips smiles to himself. 

They don’t fit in with the 30s style furniture in their skimpy club clothing but Sips knows the boys won’t mind. 

As the brunette checks out the room she sees a questionable stain on the floor. A stain that persists no matter how many times Sips redoes the floor or tries to clean it up.

“What’s this from?” She sounds hesitant and scared and he smiles warmly to ease her fears. 

“We’ve got time if you want to hear the story.” The other two sit back on the couch and the brunette sits beside them, facing the fire, their backs to the darkness of the rest of the house and hallway. 

He sits in the armchair, clear view of the door and hallway from his spot. 

“Is it scary?” The blonde asks sliding her hand up the redheads thigh.

“A bit.”

“Let's hear it then.” The redhead speaks this time, a lazy smirk on her face that Sips matches with one of his own. 

“Well, it starts in the early 1910s I guess. There were these three friends who loved to cause trouble. First it was normal teenager stuff, breaking windows, starting small fires, bullying younger kids. Typical stuff,” Sips pauses to watch some shadows move in the hallway, “but then things escalated as they got older. They began to mutilate animals, torture and skin cats, drown dogs. Anything cruel they did it. And it only got worse as they got older.”

The brunette was watching anxiously while the blonde and redhead lost interest, making out and touching each other instead. Sips leans back, relaxing as he continues the story. 

“Eventually as they grew up together they began to steal things. They robbed a few banks in the beginning but they sort of ended up changing their crime direction. They started kidnapping women. Torturing them and mutilating them just like they used to do to animals, but even _that_ wasn’t enough for them after a while,” He smirks as the shadows in the hallway grow darker when the clock strikes twelve, “Before killing and torturing the women they would rape them, or use knives on them, whatever they could to torture and hurt them.”

The brunette swallows nervously, tears welling up in her eyes.

“They went back to robbing banks near the end, that was their downfall in my opinion, but they did hoard away some cash supposedly hidden away somewhere in this house.”

“So that spot is from...” Her voice shakes and he laughs, loud enough to startle the other two girls and to cover the sound of the front door locking.

“No, no that spot is from them.” She looks at him in confusion, “I mean they, like I said before, they robbed more banks near the end and they got cornered by the police right here in this house. The three bastards got _shot_ here in this house. This room was where they killed the leader. Short little fuck who was into some dark occult shit.” He pauses for effect, “Some say they could still haunt this house where they died, protecting their money and murdering women who stay the night.”

“Bullshit. Demons and ghosts and all that shit is bullshit and ain’t real.” The redhead mumbles while she and the blonde kiss. He laughs again and smiles brightly at the deepening darkness of the room. 

“Whatever you say.”

“What...what were their names?” The brunette seems genuinely interested and Sips feels almost bad for her.

“Well, there was Alex Smith, the pyro and the one who loved fucking their victims the most, dead or alive it didn’t matter as long as the body was still warm.” A soft green glow appeared in the hallway, two orbs seeming to burn brightly as the name is uttered. 

“There was Ross Hornby, he was ruthless and definitely the most violent. Rumors were he was a werewolf from how savage he was with his murders.” Blue joins the green, the colors dancing around each other and glowing in a soft and welcoming way. 

“And lastly there was their leader, Chris Trott. The main man in charge. He was the shortest but definitely wasn't weak. Think of him as the brains and the other two as the brawn.” Orange joins the other two colors and they glow softly together in a sort of harmony that Sips envies as he watches them.

They hear a creak from upstairs and the brunette looks up, but Sips just grins in the direction of the hallway. Three sets of brightly glowing eyes stare back at him and he checks his watch.

“Almost time. Another ten minutes or so.” 

They sit in silence as the eyes approach, the brunette looking into the fire and just listening while Sips watches the three figures that emerge from the shadows, the two tall ones on either side, with the shortest in the middle. 

They seem to flicker before reappearing with their backs to the fire, facing the three girls. The girls jump and then laugh nervously at their sudden appearance. Sips knows they must look terrifying, backlit like they are. Their eyes glowing in an inhuman way, a broad and manic grin on one of their faces while the other two are stoic. They sure are a sight to behold Sips thinks. Especially since though their appearance varies they all have a dark hunger in their eyes. 

Sips gets up, groaning softly and pours himself a glass of scotch before sitting back down. The entire time they don’t move, just stare at the girls who become more and more unnerved by the second. 

“Oh don’t worry about them ladies.” Sips smiles his deceptively charming smile at them, “They can’t touch you,” He pauses and his grin goes as dark as theirs, “yet.”

The girls laugh nervously again but the brunette stands and shakes her head. 

“No this...This is too freaky. I...I want to leave.” She’s obviously trying to sound stern but it doesn’t work as she stutters and her voice shakes. She heads towards the door but Smith stops her, broad manic grin still in place and eyes gleaming with malice and the promise of pain. 

“Mm, sorry,” Sips shakes his head as he takes a sip of scotch, “Smiffy here seems to like you, I’m afraid you can’t leave now.” 

Ross and Trott finally break out in matching grins as the clock in the house _finally_ strikes one and in an instant they both lunge for their prey.

Trott snags the redhead by her hair and drags her kicking and screaming over the back of the couch and into the darkness of the hallway. Leaving the scene to the imagination as her screams turn wet before being replaced with a wet squelching noise and the occasional crack of breaking bones.

Ross isn’t as shy and tackles the blonde hard enough to knock the couch onto it’s back with a house shaking thud. She screams at the top of her lungs, loud and piercing and terror filled as he bites at her, eyes glowing bright blue with hunger and need. His teeth sink into her arm as she tries to push him away and she screams somehow louder, this time in pain and Sips chuckles to himself, taking another sip of his scotch.

He used to think they couldn’t hurt others, and he was right, when he first bought the place the needed him to kill for them, but now after years of being fed regularly they have enough power to manifest and kill for themselves. They’re still too weak to leave the house though, that’s their only weakness. He usually only feeds them at night for the atmosphere and effect. 

He looks over to Smith and of course he’s still just grinning, still standing between the third girl and the door. She shakes and shivers, pressing up against the wall as though trying to disappear through it. It’s obvious she’s frozen in fear and Smith is loving it.

“C’mon Kermit, I’ve got things to do, get on with it.” Sips reminds all of them of his presence when he speaks and the blonde screams for his help before Ross sinks his teeth into her throat and silences her. 

“Fine Sips, but you owe me something I can fuck. It’s been too long.” He looks hungry and restless and suddenly he’s got his hands around her throat and he’s pressing hard against her windpipe. She claws at his hands and tries to free herself from his grasp. His eyes close halfway and a shiver of pleasure races up his spine when he feels her windpipe collapse under his fingers. He lets out a sigh and lets go of her, his entire being glowing green as she collapses to the floor.

She pulls herself towards Sips, past Ross who is feeding like an animal on her friend, his face buried in her chest cavity noisily eating her heart right from her chest. She looks up at Sips hopefully, fear and desperation in her eyes as she wheezes at his feet. 

He scoffs in disgust and pushes her away, careful not to get any sort of blood on his shoe. Trott plops down by his feet, resting his back against Sips’ legs and smiling contentedly. He’s glowing orange completely now, not just his eyes but his entire body radiates orange like the dying fire in the fireplace. 

“Don’t play with your food, Smiffy.” 

Smith grumbles under his breath and stomps over to the gasping girl. He stomps on her head hard until the skull cracks and caves under his boot and there’s little left of her head beyond blood and brain matter. He glows more and more green until he’s as bright as Trott. Which is when he finally stops.

“Happy now, ya fucker?” He snarls with a grin. He rolls her over onto her back before sitting beside her body and beginning to pry open her chest cavity. 

“Yep.” Sips replies, popping the ‘p’ at the end, “A few more weeks of this and you boy’s will be in prime condition again, eh?”

“Absolutely.” Trott smirks, flexing his fingers almost as though he’s forgotten how they work. 

Smith finally frees the heart and takes a bite of it, groaning in satisfaction, “And when we’re finally us again...” He trails off taking another bite of the heart in his hand.

“We’ll cause chaos the likes of which this decade has never even begun to comprehend.” Ross concludes, glowing brighter than the other two and smearing blood on his face with an almost demonic grin. 

“A little over the top and more dramatic than I would have worded it but...yeah.” Sips laughs, finishing his scotch, “Only this time, you’ll be immortal.” He adds, his own eyes glowing red as he watches Ross and Smith finish their meals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a Fool and can never keep up with these things (as it is I'm posting this at 3 am on the 3rd so I'm already a day late oops.) But I'm going to Try.
> 
> -Ry
> 
> P.S. please forgive any issues, this hasn't been beta read or anything sorry!!


	2. Witches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ross loves rocks and believes in their healing powers. And he wants to share with his best friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again I am Late because I have the worst time management skills on the planet. 
> 
> Hope the fluff in this chapter makes up for it. Also please forgive any mistakes again I'm sorry.
> 
> -Ry

They’re sitting around Ross’ coffee table, the wrappings from his gifts all over the floor. He walks back into the room and hands them both a box, gift wrapped in green and yellow for them. Colors he knows they like. 

“You do realize of course, that  _ you’re  _ not supposed to give gifts on your birthday right?” Smith snarks, betraying his excitement with his broad grin and excited fidgeting. 

“I know.” Ross says simply, situating himself across from them again, “But it always feels...weird, getting gifts and not giving them. So...” He trails off and gestures to the boxes before them, “Enough of that though, open them up.” 

Smith goes first, tearing gently at the wrapping, meticulous as he peels away the tape. The small black box has him laughing a little, he has no idea what would fit in a box this size but he gasps when he opens it.

Nestled in the box surrounded by white tissue paper, there’s a necklace. A plain black cord with a bright striped orange stone settled in the center, dangling down. It’s huge for a rock, and he just stares at it as he gently eases it out of the box. 

“Ross...Did you make this?”

“I did! So if it lets go or something let me know right away and I can fix it immediately. There’s also a handwritten card hidden under the tissue paper.” He smiles, overjoyed that Smith likes the gift so far. 

Smith holds the necklace like he’s afraid he'll accidentally break it, the polished stone looking almost like glass and making him think it’s incredibly fragile. He places the necklace in his lap while he gets the note out. 

It’s Ross’ handwriting of course, like in his journals (or grimoires as Trott likes to call them) and he feels his heart race a little in excitement, and a feeling he’s not ready to define yet, as he reads the card aloud for Trott to hear as well.  

 

**_Carnelian_ **

_ The life of the party and ginger just like you Smith! Wear this to a job interview and you’ll be able to land any job with the confidence and luck it brings, not to mention you’ll be able to impress anyone with the improved charm it gives you. (Not that you’ll need it though amirite? ;D) _

 

He laughs and looks at Ross, gratitude in his eyes. 

“Thank you Ross, it’s incredible.” He whispers, a little choked up and Ross just smiles and nods. As Smith slips the cord over his head he feels a warmth radiating from the stone and filling him, though he isn’t entirely sure whether it's the stone or the booze they’ve been drinking. Either way he’s content.

“All right Trout, your turn.” He grins, shifting the focus from himself. 

Trott scoffs with a smile and tears into the yellow wrapping paper with abandon. The white box is the same size as Smith’s, maybe a bit smaller, so Trott has a feeling he knows what's inside. But opening it makes his heart stop.

His necklace has a small, thin chain and a black and orange stone set in metal wire in the middle. He feels frozen as he lifts it from the box and just holds it tight in his hand. 

Ross sits up on his knees and makes his way over to Trott’s side, gently easing the necklace from his death grip, shushing him softly with a quiet “I just want to put it on you, Trott.” when he whines and holds on tighter. He finally lets go and let’s Ross put it on his neck. 

He swallows and gently pushes the box towards Smith. 

“You want me to read your card, mate?” He asks softly and Trott can only nod in his overwhelmed and overly emotional state. 

 

**_Leopard Skin Jasper_ **

_ Sometimes we get hurt and sometimes it’s hard pick up the pieces on our own. Trott, I chose this stone for you because of it’s self-healing properties. To help you on the rare occasions when Smith and I can’t and to remind you that you’re not as alone as you feel. _

 

Trott’s sounds more heartfelt than Smith’s but that’s what he needs to hear and Smith is glad Ross can put those sort of feelings and understanding into words. Trott’s head is bowed and he’s shaking a bit with silent sobs. Ross still sits beside him, rubbing small and slow circles on his back and Trott eventually leans into him and sobs softly against his chest. 

Smith quietly picks up the mess they’ve left and goes into the kitchen to get some water for them all. When he comes back Trott’s calmed down somewhat, no longer sobbing or shaking, just breathing heavily against Ross’ chest. 

“So, I was thinking.” Ross starts, finally breaking the silence.

“Dangerous past time, that is mate. Specially for you.” Smith snarks with a grin and Ross ignores him, shaking his head. 

“What if we order takeout or pizza or something, I put in the movie Trott here got me and we just...Watch it together? Then after, if you’re both still awake, the two of you could play games while I read the book Smith got me.” He sounds smiley and excited.

“Fuck yeah, let’s do it!” Smith agrees enthusiastically, “Can’t wait to kick Trotty boy’s ass at the new game.” He adds through gritted teeth with a manic grin. 

Trott laughs, it still sounds wet, and it's obvious he’s been crying, but he smiles and brushes the fringe out of his eyes. 

“Yeah right, sunshine, I’m gonna destroy you.” He says sweetly and Smith laughs. 

Ross just stays silent, watching them with so much happiness and he has a sudden realization that makes his heart race too fast and his throat feel dry. He loves these two so much more than he ever thought he would and that though both scares and excites him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This AU is something I've had squirrled away for a long time. 
> 
> To sum it up in the most basic way I can:
> 
> -The hats meet on the subway commute to their respective jobs  
> -Ross is a witch and reads lots of occult stuff that gets Trott's interest  
> -Smith and Trott both had Bad childhoods, Ross tries to help them each in the specific way they need it.  
> -Ross fucking loves rocks and plants.
> 
> Please just shoot me an ask on tumblr if you want to know more about this AU I have so many notes on it in my Docs and it's late and I'm sure this is a jumbled mess right now. 
> 
> -Ry


	3. Undead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smith's the star athelete of his school. A great and perfect person. Except he's really not and he has to understand his actions do in fact have consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hyp3r's authors note: just a small setup for an enemies-to-lovers type thing, with added revenge-necromancy!
> 
>  
> 
> This was all written and thought of by Hy!!! I simply edited/fixed it up and holy christ you guys, his stuff is so good. Please convince him to write more often. 
> 
> -Ry

Alex Smith was the king of his school. 

The star athlete, the life of every party,  _ always _ the center of attention. 

He could get anyone and anything he wanted, even the teachers would obey his every whim. 

He wasn’t always such a shit though, somewhere in it all his sense of decency and morale had drowned as the power went to his head; any guilt he may have once had was choked away when his actions had no consequences.

But he was greedy, he always wanted  _ more _ . He wanted his royal court of students to worship him, and for everyone outside of his close circle to either fear or adore him. And they all had reasons to adore him. He was perfect in his eyes. But they didn’t all adore him, didn’t do what he wanted, so now he had to prove himself worthy of fear.

He didn’t pick his target for any specific reason. His victim was just...an easy target. With his hair always laying too neat, and his clothes being a bit outdated. Christ the kid had a  _ pocket square. _ All that combined with his too-toothy grin and thick rimmed glasses made him akin to a stereotype bully-victim, and it was just too easy to act on. 

Not to mention he--Smith tended to forget his name in favour of all the mean spirited nicknames--was a loner. He had nobody. Nobody really liked him and that made him the easiest target in Smith’s eyes. 

None of it felt real when they acted on it. 

Oh they never did anything too serious, at least Smith thought so. Yeah, sure he gave the kid a black eye every now and then, but it couldn't have been so bad, because it never came back to bite Smith in the ass (not that he really expected it to, his actions never had  _ real _ consequences). 

At least not for a while.

Alex Smith was the king of his school. Invited to another party, just like he always was. Drunk like he always got; on cheap beer and rum mixed with Coke.

Nothing could hurt him, he knew at this point. He was powerful. He was invincible,  _ untouchable _ ! Who and what could possibly cut him down now?! 

That who and what turned out to be a tree, when he collided head first with it going 50 miles per hour in his Chevrolet.

\---

 

Everything hurts. Oh God his head hurts  _ so bad _ , and the light coming through his closed eyes is enough to make a migraine flare up. 

_ How drunk did I get last night? _ Smith thinks to himself, but there's this feeling, this horrible sense of wrong that no hangover has given him before. Something is off about this whole thing but he can’t figure out what it is. 

“I know you're awake you piece of shit. Get up.” A voice. It seems familiar, but Smith can't place it.

He opens his eyes, blinking to adjust to the light. His vision seems...different. It’s harder to focus now and his vision is hazy no matter how many times he blinks. He sees a long face, with warm brown eyes.

“Are you fucking deaf??” the person asks, and Smith shakes his head, finally clearing his vision. It’s that nerd kid. Only...he too seems different. Bigger, less inviting to prey on.

Smith opens his mouth to speak, only to find a horrible pain shoot through his jaw and make him groan softly in pain.

“Okay, not deaf. Good. Thought I’d messed that up.” The brunette continues,”Honestly you are such a fucking idiot.”

The man pulls away from Smith, who is still busy trying to orientate himself, “Drunk driving, pshh. A new low, honestly. Even for you. What if someone else had gotten hurt, huh?”

“What is-... where am I? Why are you here?” Smith finally manages to croak out with great pain, concerned about the rasping of his own voice. 

“I fucking told you!” The man, what the fuck was his name again, spins around, almost snarling in anger. “I know remembering is hard and all but are you really such a dunce you need me to tell you because you can’t figure it out on your own?”

“What are you talki-” Smith starts but gets interrupted

“You  _**died**. _ ”

And then Smith remembers. He remembers everything, crashing into that fucking tree, and now with that he can place all the wrongness in his body. Cold. Empty.  _ Numb _ .

He sits up, slowly so he doesn’t aggravate his migraine, and looks at his body, and would scream was he not too shocked to do so.

His body is  _ mangled _ . His skin looks like patchwork, all stitches and bruises and scabbed up blood. He feels like he should cry, or throw up, but neither of those reactions come to him. Instead he just keeps feeling that cold, empty, numbness.

“I fixed you up, brought you back. No need to thank me or anything.” He adds when Smith doesn’t respond. “Sure, take your time. i know it's gotta be  _ sooo haaard _ for you to see things not working out in your favour for once.” The man rolls his eyes in sarcasm and lets out a laugh.

He flops down into the armchair set up next to the couch Smith is propped up on. Reaching over the coffee table that Smith then realizes is littered with bloodied surgical tools, he picks up a book of sudoku and goes back to working on a half-finished puzzle.

The minutes pass in silence as Smith tries to grasp it all. Frustration more than any other emotion seems to come to him, since sadness and fear seem so distant in this state.

“Why?” He half-whispers, not expecting any sort of good answer.

“Hmm?” Comes a surprised noise from the other man as he looks over his book towards Smith, “‘ _ Why?’ _ because you’re a fucking prick is why. You’re a fucking awful human being, and you didn’t even know.”

A smile seems to spread on his face when he sees Smith’s horrified expression,   
“What, did you think it was because you were special?” He laughs, something malicious in his voice 

“You thought you were destined for greatness and so the Gods gave you another chance? You really are  _ such _ a fucking moron. Raising the dead isn’t hard. Bringing people back isn’t hard. Honestly the most difficult part was putting you all together after you managed to turn half your body into mincemeat. Everyone at school is mourning you, telling stories about how  _ great _ you were. Well, you’re here with  _ me _ now, Alex.” He rises from the couch, walking over towards Smith and leaning over him, a wicked smile on his face, “And when I’m done with you you’re going to wish you could die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hyp3r's authors note: following this smiff basically becomes trotts undead servant, until they both work it out in the end


	4. Werewolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trott learns about a nearby shelter and decides maybe it's time to adopt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hy and I have so many AUs with werewolves but I finally decided on this one because it's kind of cute? I'm nervous about posting it for some reason but I hope you all like it. 
> 
> This AU has been around for a long while. I wrote all this up months ago but I was always unsure of how to continue it (beyond the eventual hatsome of course) so it's just been sitting around.
> 
> Until now. 
> 
> -Ry

Trott lives alone. Like most magical beings he prefers the solitude, but he’s quite close with several others, which is how he hears about the shelter. 

He’s heard the stories -of weres unable to return to their senses, the beast blood too strong in them- but he never considered someone was out there collecting them. It made sense in hindsight, they couldn’t be allowed to just roam the city streets, but he never consciously thought about it before.

When Lomadia handed him a flier, telling him he should adopt a dog, he couldn’t tell if she was kidding or not, but he considered it seriously. He was lonely more often than not and a wolf might help with that. 

Which is why he’s now in a strong glamour, standing in the kennels and listening to the echoing of at least a dozen werewolves snapping at him.

He looks them over, one by one. There’s a pretty black one with deep blue, almost purple, eyes that he considers but Zoeya, as she walks in behind him, tells him apologetically, that one’s been adopted. 

As she places a paper in his clear file sheet with  **_‘Adopted :D’_ ** written in happy handwriting, she smiles cheerfully and says “But! If black is the color you want, there’s one down there at the end. Right hand side.”

And then she’s gone again. He walks down the aisle, ignoring the snapping jaws of the grey one on his left, and the snarling of the brown one to his right, the pacing white one unnerves him but that too he ignores. 

He comes to the end of the line, the left kennel is empty and in the corner of the right one, huddled against the wall, is a black wolf with grey-blue eyes. He’s not pure black like the other one. He has a big white spot on his chest and a white sock marking on his front right paw. 

Trott gently grabs the clear folder with his file and looks it over. 

 

**_Price:_ ** _ £50 _

**_Animal ID:_ ** _ djh3m4x _

**_Name:_ ** _ Ross S. Hornby _

**_Species:_ ** _ Werewolf _

**_Age:_ ** _ 26 _

**_Gender:_ ** _ Male _

**_Size:_ ** _ XLarge* _

**_Colors:_ ** _ Black  _

**_Site:_ ** _ Pawticular Beasts - Mythos Rescue _

**_Location:_ ** _ Adoption Floor _

**_Intake Date:_ ** _ 1/13/2017 _

_ *He’s our largest rescue to date! ♡ _

 

Trott smiles, recognizing Zoeya’s happy handwriting at the bottom and his eyes flick to the wolf in the corner. 

“Hey there, Ross,” Trott whispers, squatting down to look at him properly, “You need a place to stay and get better, huh?” 

He sees the werewolf eyeing him carefully. Intelligence and recognition in his eyes. They glance back to the file and Trott smiles, standing to finish reading it.

 

**_Extra:_ ** _ Ross was found wandering around a vacant lot with a heavy towing chain around his neck. His neck is still tender from the wounds so please be gentle when petting him. He was lucky enough to have his wallet in his ripped up pants pocket, so we know his name for sure! (And his wallet will be sent home with you when you adopt him!) _

_ He responds well to auditory stimulation though his hearing  _ **_should_ ** _ be monitored. He is slightly vision impaired, be patient with him in his new environment. It’ll take him some getting used to.   _

_ Ross is shy but he’s still a werewolf and must be handled carefully. He is aggressive and does  _ **_not_ ** _ get along with any other were-beings,  _ **_especially_ ** _ not cats.  _

 

The door to the kennel area opens with a soft groan, the other wolves go quiet as someone enters the room. Trott doesn’t even look up, he continues reading.

Trott frowns as the handwriting changes, no longer the friendly look of Zoeya’s looping letters and high energy. It’s darker and heavier.

 

**_Ross has injured three other werewolves and killed one when they were put in the same kennel as him. He is extremely territorial and must be socialized with very rarely. Feedings are to be regulated until further notice._ **

 

Trott’s skin prickles with the feeling of someone behind him. He hears a soft deep growl, whispers “Easy, Ross.” and the growling stops. The werewolf approaches the fencing though and his lips continue to twitch in a silent snarl. 

He ignores the feeling of eyes and looks at Ross curiously. He’s almost sickly thin Trott notices now. His ribs are sticking out and his hips look so boney that Trott feels anger burning dully in his gut. 

He looks back down at the paper, one single line left and when he reads it the dull flame turns into a full inferno, his glamour wavering and shimmering, causing the werewolves to whimper and whoever is behind him to step back. 

 

**_TO BE DESTROYED_ **

 

Blood specks are on the paper, the handwriting completely different from either of the other two. He whirls around and is face to face with some mythos he doesn’t recognize, and he can feel his own fury radiating off him.

“Can I help y--” 

“I want this one.” 

“...Sir, this one is--”

“‘To be destroyed’ if I’m reading this correctly.” He spits and they shiver, “They’re sentient, they are still--!!” He inhales sharply and pulls his wallet out, “I’ll give you the money, get me his wallet, a muzzle and a harness.”

“Sir I cannot in good conscious sell it to you.” They begin and Trott listens, shaking a little in fury as he pulls out some money, “It is dangerous and needs to be put down immediately. We have a very nice grey one over here. It--” 

Trott snaps, his glamour shifting dangerously and his eyes burning with hatred. “If you don’t sell him to me not only will I have you fired, but I’ll also hunt you down and rip your throat out with my  _ teeth _ . Now, _ get me his wallet, a harness and a muzzle. _ ” 

They scurry away to draw up the paperwork and Trott breathes heavily trying to relax. He turns to Ross who looks up at him hopefully.

“Don’t worry sunshine,” Trott whispers, squatting next to the kennel again, “I’m taking you home.” 

The werewolf presses his nose against the chain link fence behind the bars and Trott smiles softly.

 

* * *

Trott reads the fine print on the adoption form, taking all the time he wants. You can never be too careful when dealing with mythos and fae. When it all seems to check out he signs the papers and Zoeya slides all the stuff he needs across the counter. 

Ross is in the interaction room, pacing and panting and watching Trott carefully.

“Are you going to want help with the muzzle and harness?” She asks, still smiling and happy.

“No, I think I can handle it. Thank you.” He replies, sliding Ross’ wallet into his pocket beside his own.

“No problem!” She pauses and then says softly, “Thank you for adopting him. He’s a good boy, just scared.”

“I know.” Trott says just as softly before turning towards the interaction room, Ross sits in the corner and Trott approaches him slowly.

“Hey there Ross.” He speaks calmly, keeping his voice even, “I’m going to take you home now. But I have to put a muzzle and harness on you. It’s the law unfortunately.” 

Ross presses back against the wall and eyes the muzzle skeptically. “I know, it’s awful. Let’s do the harness first yeah?”

Ross lifts his paw, stepping into the harness easily. Trott’s heart hurts when he  _ feels  _ how malnourished Ross is. It’s one thing to see it and another to feel the bones through his skin. Trott closes the harness around his chest, careful around his neck.

“You’ll need a collar eventually, but that’ll come later, once your neck has healed properly.” He pets Ross’ head and smiles when his eyes close and he leans into his touch. “Now, we have to get the muzzle on you.”

Ross inhales and tenses as Trott brings it up to his face, but he doesn’t push it on, he waits until Ross slides his face into the muzzle, eyes pleading silently.

“I know, as soon as I get you home this awful thing will come off. I promise.” He whispers and kisses the top of Ross’ head. He clips a leash to the back of the harness, gently tugging to let Ross know his limits. 

He stands up straight once Ross is ready to go and opens the door to the lobby. Zoeya is in front of the counter this time and she’s beaming with happiness. 

“Hiya Ross!” She says excitedly, kneeling down in front of him as they approach her, “Are you going home?” she asks, gently patting his head, and Ross wags his tail. She smiles wide and looks up at Trott, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, “He’s never wagged his tail before.” Her voice is full of emotion and she can’t help herself, she throws her arms around Ross and hugs him. 

“He’s gonna take such good care of you, Ross.” She whispers and Ross leans into her hug. She squeezes him gently before letting go and standing up, wiping at her eyes, “Have fun, take care, and if you have any questions don’t hesitate to call.”

Trott smiles and shakes her hand, “Thank you, we’ll come visit when he gets better.”

The words make Zoeya smile almost sympathetically, but he genuinely hopes he can reach Ross. 

_But_ , he thinks as he walks outside and smiles as Ross keeps his tail up, practically prancing, _even if he doesn’t,_ _having a wolf roommate won’t be too bad._

 

* * *

__

Closing the door to his apartment Trott relaxes a lot, letting his glamour fall away completely. His seafoam and orange scales shimmer in the light, and he can feel Ross staring at him.

The far walls have a floor to ceiling window in the corner, giving his small space maximum light and a view to die for. He kneels next to Ross and slides the muzzle off slowly and carefully. 

Ross looks up at him, looking happier than he had when Trott first met him. 

“Now, I don’t know what they fed you at the shelter but as far as I’m concerned you’re a human trapped in a dog’s body. So,” He says standing up and walking into his kitchen area, “you’ll be eating mostly the same things as me.” 

Ross follows him and lays by the island in the kitchen, out of the way but near enough to watch carefully. His ears are up and his nose is twitching but he’s not moving to investigate his new surroundings.

“You can look around Ross, this is your home now too, just try not to piss on my stuff yeah?” He laughs and Ross stands slowly, almost as though he’s unsure if Trott means it.

When Trott doesn’t yell at him or tell him to lay back down Ross puts his nose to the floor and begins sniffing everywhere he can. He smells Trott on  _ everything  _ and his tail never fully goes down. 

His sniffing around in the bedroom is interrupted when he hears a knock on the door. He barks once, loud and startled and tears out of the room, nails clicking and feet sliding on the hardwood. Trott looks confused and wipes his hands on his apron before hesitantly heading toward the door. 

Ross growls, standing beside the door, nose sniffing fast and he snorts when Trott places a hand on his back. Trott’s glamour goes up and he keeps his hand on Ross as he opens the door a little bit. Ross tenses when Trott does and tightens his grip on Ross’ fur. 

“Go away.” He says, trying to close the door, but the person on the other side stops the door with their foot.

“C’mon babe, let me in, we need to talk,” They sound like they’re being honest but Ross knows better, “Let me say my piece and then I’ll leave if you want me to.” 

Trott hesitates before opening the door all the way, letting them see Ross in his full wolf glory. 

“Go away or I’ll sic my new friend on you.” Trott snarls, venom in his voice, and Ross growls, teeth bared and lips pulled back in a nasty snarl. He’s ready for Trott to let him go.

They swallow nervously and try to step in, saying, “Don’t be this way,  _ please _ baby.” 

Ross snaps his teeth at them, barking viciously and snapping his jaws with loud clicks. Trott keeps a firm hold on his harness and his eyes hold nothing but malice for the unwelcome visitor. He wants nothing more than to let Ross tear them limb from limb. 

Even when they see Trott is serious they still hesitate to leave and Trott loosens his grip just enough for Ross to lunge at them, forcing them to stumble backwards and fear to cover their features.

“Come back and I won't hold him back next time.” He spits and slams the door closed, making sure to lock it. Almost immediately afterwards he falls to his knees, shaking with leftover adrenaline and holds onto Ross. 

Ross sits down, placing his head on Trott’s shoulder and sighing heavily, all traces of the violent beast from before gone. Trott sniffles against his fur and Ross can feel the tears leaking from his eyes. 

“Pathetic,” he whispers against Ross, his voice shaky and full of emotion, “a sea dragon is scared of a fuckin’  _ human. _ ” 

Ross leans back a little and licks at Trott’s face, trying to clean his tears, and it makes him laugh wetly and gently push him away. 

“I bet you’re hungry,” Trott whispers a little hoarsely, standing on shaky legs, “Lucky for you dinner's almost ready.” 

Ross lays down in the kitchen while Trott finishes up. Laying as close as he can without being under foot.

 

* * *

Ross jerks awake. 

Dinner has been done for a while and Trott went to bed hours ago, telling him to sleep in the spacious living room rather than the cramped bedroom.

Something is wrong. He sniffs around the exit door, to the hallway, then he checks the large windows, he checks the bathroom and then he hears what woke him up.

A muffled cry. 

His ears are straight up and he sniffs at Trott’s bedroom door. He can smell the human again and two others. 

_ Fire escape.  _ His mind supplies. He remembers seeing the large window leading to the back alley and he  _ knows _ that’s how they got in.

“Ross!” He hears Trott yelp before being muffled again. Ross growls and doesn’t think. He starts clawing at the door, trying to get it open, Trott cries out in panic and pain and Ross sees red.

He snarls and barks, throwing his whole body against the door. The wood creaks and the sounds behind the door get more frantic. His shoulder hits it again and again until the wood gives away in a crashing and splintering cacophony of sound. Wood flies inward and Ross stands in the doorway looking like a hound from hell, eyes glowing and teeth bared in a vicious snarl.

“Shit!” One of them shouts and scrambles out the window, one of the other humans holds out a knife, Ross can smell blood and knows it must be an iron or silver blade to cause pain and blood from Trott.

Ross doesn’t think. He lunges at them, teeth snapping and catching on their arm, yanking them onto the floor and shaking his head. They scream in pain and Ross feels satisfaction from the sound of flesh tearing and bones snapping. 

The knife burns when it slides into his shoulder, _it must be silver_ , he thinks idly, but he ignores the pain. He lets go of the human’s arm and it drops to the floor with a wet thud. He wastes no time tearing into the human’s throat, wanting to revel in the gurgling sound they make as they choke on their own blood, but Trott needs him. 

He can see Trott’s scales shining in the streetlights filtering through his bedroom window and the blood smeared on his face and sheets; Ross feels a new surge of anger and hatred. 

The other human, the one who is pinning Trott to the bed, is the one from earlier and Ross wants to tear them apart. 

He growls, low and deep, his eyes shining in the artificial light from outside. Blood drips from his chin and chest in a steady  _ drip-drip-drip _ . They stare at him with a knife to Trott’s throat. 

“Stay or I’ll slit his throat.” They spit and Ross snarls, licking his lips in anger. He watches as Trott’s tail slides between their bodies carefully and slowly as they kiss him. They’re distracted, kissing his jaw and biting at his ear and Trott shoves them back hard with his tail, startling them and throwing them backwards and away from him.

Ross leaps through the air the instant he has the chance, tackling them off the bed and out onto the fire escape. The metal landing groans and protests from their fighting, shaking and rattling as they wrestle. Ross has them pinned to the railing and is snapping at their face. They’re pushing against him, trying to get him away, but even in his malnourished state he’s still stronger than they are. 

They lean too far back and Ross watches almost in slow motion as they fall backwards over the railing. They land with a sickening crunch into the alley below and Ross snorts. He’s panting as he walks back into the bedroom, his body still tense from the fight. 

Trott is in shock, he’s shaking and rocking back and forth and Ross gently noses against him. The wet of his nose seems to pull Trott back to reality and he gasps out a soft sob, hugging onto Ross and bumping the knife in his shoulder.

“Ross, you’re hurt.” He whispers thickly as Ross whines softly in pain, “Let’s go into the bathroom and clean you up.”

They avoid the dying human on the floor, Ross can hear their heart beating futilely and feels proud of himself. The light in the bathroom is bright and makes them both squint.

In the light Ross can see the cuts on Trott's face and neck. They’re not deep enough to warrant stitches, and they won’t scar but there’s a steady stream of blood flowing from the one under his eye.

He sits on the toilet and calls Ross over, apologizing as he pulls the knife out of his shoulder. Ross doesn’t make a sound, just watches Trott’s face carefully.

When the knife is out Trott cleans up the wound, carefully checking to make sure his muscles will still work when the injury is healed. He shaves around the stab with an electric razor and stitches it closed with a needle and thread.

Ross doesn't want to think about why Trott has all these medical tools. 

“Don’t lick the wound Ross, it needs to heal.” Trott whispers, gently petting his head, “I’ll check it in the morning too and get you on some medicine to fight any infections.”

When he’s done with Ross he strips down and climbs into the shower. Ross keeps his head on the edge of the bathtub and watches him shower, eyes heavy as exhaustion sets in.

When the water turns off Ross gets up and moves out of the way, groaning as he stretches and yawns. 

Trott covers himself in a bathrobe and they leave the bathroom. He ignores his room and heads for the living room, sitting on the couch and turning on the television. The light and sound bathe the apartment and give everything a blue hue.

“The blood will be a pain to get out of the wood floor tomorrow but...I can’t right now...” He whispers, looking at Ross. Ross simply jumps onto the couch with him and lays his head on his lap while Trott watches tv.

Trott pets his head until the tv lulls them into a restless light sleep. 

Ross sleeps in his bedroom after that, his place on the bed or the floor but never far from Trott’s side.

 

* * *

Trott doesn’t bring anyone back and he doesn’t go on dates and it hurts Ross to see him that way. 

Trott’s timid and he isn’t sure  _ why,  _ but it doesn’t really matter, it just means Ross needs to protect him that much more.

When his neck is fully healed, the tender skin no longer an issue, and the stab wound on his shoulder is nothing more than a memory, Trott takes him out on the streets.

Ross looks thicker and healthy than he had, no longer the skinny wolf Trott saved from being killed, now his coat shines and his eyes are bright. He stays beside Trott while they walk, and everyone who sees him is in awe.

They come across a friend of Trott’s and Ross sniffs her all over making her laugh. He can smell the magic on her but he doesn’t know what she is, just that she’s a friend. 

They decide to have a cup of coffee at a nearby place, there’s outdoor seating and Ross lays under the table, feeling a little lazy in the afternoon heat. He dozes in and out as they chat.

“He’s very aware for a feral werewolf.” She says, sipping her coffee, “he may return to his human form.”

“I dunno about that Lom,” He says laughing, Ross wags his tail in his half asleep haze, he’s happy when Trott is, “he’s never really...” But then he pauses and she can see the gears turning in Trott’s eyes.

“Well, let’s list off the things he does.” She says setting her cup down, “He recognizes commands instantly, he knows his name, he defends and protects you to the extreme--”

“Those are all things ferals do too.” 

“Yeah, but not that quickly, you’ve got yourself a werewolf who loves you like...well, like a soulmate.”

Trott scoffs, “Those are old tales. Soulmates don’t exist.” His voice is bitter and he only pauses when she places a hand on his.

“If you want him in human form,” She says softly, eyes gentle, “Get him a collar and make sure he knows he’s loved.” 

“He already knows that.” 

“Have you told him?” 

Trott opens his mouth to say ‘of course I have’ but he stops. He hasn’t once, since adopting Ross into his home, told him he loved him. 

She looks at him knowingly and he huffs making her laugh. Under the table Ross groans and stretches as he flops over and lays on his side. 

 

* * *

 

The bright fluorescent lights hurt Ross’ eyes a little, and the sounds of animals barking and meowing and squawking makes him a little tense. 

Trott just keeps his hand on Ross’ head while he gets a shopping basket, leash held tight in his hand. They get a lot of stares as they walk to the isle with the collars and leashes. 

Trott picks out a spiked collar, red leather and long metal spikes with an O-ring for a dog tag in the front center. The leather is heavy and thick, and Trott wonders if he can charm something on it to make it lighter. The metal is shiny in the harsh light and the red is blood red, it’s intimidating and fitting for Ross’ appearance, even if it  _ does  _ look more like a kink item than a dog collar, “How about this one?”

Ross snorts and seems to roll his eyes making Trott laugh, “All right, fair enough we’ll get you a more comfortable one.” He puts the spiked one in the basket on his arm, “But I like this one, for special occasions maybe.” 

“I should probably get you a new harness too...maybe a matching set of three.” He says playing idly with a red set of three items, “Your leash is alright but--”

He stops when Ross gently tugs on his leash, nosing at a differently colored set. 

“You don’t want red?” He laughs but then looks at the set Ross picked out. It’s a dark blue nylon collar, simple in design with a plain metal buckle clasp. The D-ring is off to the left of the buckle, and the material feels lightweight in Trott’s hands.

The leash matches perfectly in color and the harness is lined with a soft black padding around the neck and the clasps are black plastic. 

“You want blue, huh?” He asks softly, watching Ross wag his tail slowly, “Well...I  _ guess,  _ but I still prefer the red.” He teases and Ross barks happily wagging his tail faster. 

“Well c’mon then, let’s get home and get this stuff on you.” Trott says and laughs loud and happy when Ross all but drags him to the checkout lines.

 

* * *

 

Stepping into the apartment Trott can’t help but laugh. Ross rubs against his legs, groaning and grunting and wagging his tail. 

“Alright alright, let me get the collar out.” He laughs and puts the bag on the island counter. Ross puts his paws on the counter, tail still wagging as he sniffs and mumbles under his breath. A soft talkative growling noise. 

“I’m hurrying!” Trott laughs again, getting the packaging off the collar, harness, and leash set, “Let me get your tag on there first and then you’ll get your collar on.” 

Ross groans before barking softly, impatience radiating off him. Trott fights with the keyring on the bone shaped tag and finally crows triumphantly when he gets it attached to the D-ring. 

He kneels down next to Ross, who spins in a circle, whining loudly in excitement. 

“I know, sunshine, I know, you’re excited! But I have to get your harness off so I can put this on ya instead.” Ross practically drops to the ground, tail wagging fast. He’s panting and Trott just smiles. 

He maneuvers the harness off Ross, with a lot of trouble from the wiggling wolf. When he clicks the collar onto Ross the werewolf tackles him, licking his face and Trott laughs breathlessly as the air is knocked out of him when his back hits the floor. He tries to push the wolf off him and finally Ross gives in and backs off. 

When he can finally get up, Trott stands, stretching and looking at Ross lovingly. 

“Ya know what, sunshine? You look nice and I want to too.” Then he looks around conspiratorially and Ross tilts his head curiously as Trott lowers his voice, “But, you can’t tell anyone about this. It’ll be our secret.” 

And then he walks off to his bedroom. Ross trots after him, prancing proudly and Trott stops him at the door. 

“Stay here while I change.” Trott says softly and Ross sits though he looks sad at the command, “I won’t be long, just a few minutes.”

He closes the door and swallows almost nervously. He draws the blinds on his bedroom windows before opening his closet doors. He pushes his suits and button down shirts to the side, reaching into the dark corner of the closet for a soft, barely worn outfit. 

He pulls it out carefully, not wanting to snag the light and thin fabric on anything. The soft pastel dress is so light in his shaking hands and he inhales slowly, reminding himself it’s just Ross who’s going to see him. No one else will see him, or make fun of him  _ again.  _ He tears up as memories flood him.

He shakes his head to clear the thoughts away, not wanting to think about such negative things on such a good day. He undresses, slowly sliding his shirt over his head. He finds himself admiring his iridescent scales. They’re one of the things he loves about his appearance. 

He swallows hard as he slides the dress over his head. His heart beats hard in his chest and the material feels nice and soft on his skin. He wiggles out of his jeans and then pauses, sliding out of his underwear as well. He walks over to his dresser and rummages around his top drawer, finding a pair of satin mint green panties. He doesn’t hesitate as he pulls them on and when he looks at himself in the mirror he smiles. 

He grabs the sparkly orange lip gloss off of the top of the dresser and puts it on before he can second guess himself. He fidgets with his hair and realizes he’s stalling. He inhales deeply, exhaling slowly, and walks to the bedroom door. He opens it slowly and looks down to find Ross laying on the floor, looking up at him.

“So? How do I look?” He asks feeling shy and Ross stands up wagging his tail, and sniffing Trott all over. When he’s done circling and sniffing Trott he stands in front of him and sits down panting softly.

“I’ll take that as an approval.” Trott says laughing, he feels himself tearing up and swallows thickly, “Ross, you’ve been such a positive influence on my life. I love you, sunshine.” 

Ross’ ears lay back and he gently pushes his head against Trott’s thighs. Trott pets his head and sniffles.

“C’mon sunshine, let’s order some pizza tonight.” He whispers, voice thick with emotions still.

 

* * *

 

Ross barks softly when there’s a knock on the door causing Trott to startle awake. 

Trott had fallen asleep after ordering their pizza and now he was half awake as he went to the door to answer, he grabbed his wallet off the counter and yawned before opening the door.

“Hi, you ordered a large--” He stops and Trott is briefly terrified that this human is going to say something snide about his outfit. He had forgotten to change and now he was--

“Holy  _ shit,  _ that’s a big dog.” He sounds like he’s in awe and Trott looks down to see Ross with his nose in the air, sniffing at the food in his hands. 

“Can...can I pet him?” He asks softly and Trott laughs in a bit of shock.

“Uh, yeah just--Ross sit.” Ross obeys immediately and he kneels beside him, balancing his deliveries in one hand and reaching out to pet Ross with the other. 

“Ross, huh? ‘s a good name for a good boy.” He coos and Trott smiles, watching as Ross sniffs at the food more than anything. He seems sad when he stands up and tells Trott his total so Trott thinks fast as he pays him.

“You can visit him if you’d like.” His eyes light up and he smiles brightly, “Just try not to be offended if he doesn’t have an interest in you. He’s a glutton and when he realizes you don’t have food he’ll lose interest.”

They both laugh when Ross snorts and he smiles at Trott. 

“Awesome! I’ll be sure to bring some sort of offering for him then. I’m Al--” He catches himself, remembering what neighborhood he’s in, and Trott swallows a little nervously, remembering he forgot to put his glamour up, “Smith.” 

“Trott.” They shake hands and Smith smiles. He leans in a little closer and Trott wills himself not to tense up.

“I like the dress by the way, it matches your scales very nicely.” He smiles genuinely and then he’s walking away whistling to himself and Trott is left with a racing heart and a small grin on his face. 

Ross whines and he laughs, closing the door with a soft click. 

“Alright, let’s eat ya bottomless pit.”


End file.
